


Between Worlds

by Audrea_Lannistark



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, a little bit of OUaT, probably none of this makes sense to anybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrea_Lannistark/pseuds/Audrea_Lannistark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is quite a unique fan fic, a MoriartyxOC AU with a bit of OUaT for all you Oncers. Hope you catch it. Thanks for reading.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Between Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite a unique fan fic, a MoriartyxOC AU with a bit of OUaT for all you Oncers. Hope you catch it. Thanks for reading.

One time, a very long time ago, I used to be happy. But happiness, like all other things, washes away like sand on a beach—first a little, so little you don’t even notice, then a little more, and suddenly one day you realise you’re walking on bare earth. My beach is long gone.

 

 ___

 

His name was Jim. He wasn’t perfect, in fact, probably the opposite of perfect. Probably the kind of man who the popular girls—or any girls really—would hate. Short, not good at sports, sort of nerdy, a bit too melodramatic. But he was mine. And nothing could change that. Almost nothing.

 

___

 

We were sitting on the porch, reminiscing old memories, memories of times less painful. He recalled a comical happening that occurred a couple years ago. We, ever the outcasts, skived prom to have a Lord of the Rings marathon at my house. That is, until we heard Brit Tanner, the popular classic mean girl type, was going. Outfitted with a diamond, a fire extinguisher, and some gum, we set out to play the greatest prank to ever come to Westermore Private. Let’s just say it was…unforgettable. I contentedly sipped my drink: vodka-spiked espresso with marshmallows picked from the Lucky Charms box, or Irish Jimmy, an homage to Jim’s heritage. Weird, I know. But weird is what I have, what we have. It’s what I have to keep me safe. Safe from normality.

 

___

 

It came in a breeze, starting like any other. Gently, it picked up speed, flapping the tarp on the neighbours’ boat next door and swirling our paper airplanes folded from issues of our local newspaper, little fliers riddled with endless words of pain, war, death; little did we know, they would have quite a sob story to print up tomorrow…

 

I stand up suddenly and Jim puts his hand on my shoulder. “Just a storm, just a little wind…” But the trees, now even the centenarian oak that stands in my yard, are whipping their leaves, trunks swaying as if they’re made of rubber, and this isn’t anything ordinary. A huge wave of air approaches and I scream, dropping my cup, an old family heirloom. From here on out, everything is simultaneously infinitely slow, we aren’t moving and nothing is happening, and life is being played at a million miles a second. I watch the gold-rimmed, chipped cup fall to pieces at my feet as it shatters into a million pieces, into an odd shape of a happy face. Ha! It mocks. Ha! Look at the miserable little girl, the one with the outcast boyfriend, the nerd and genius together again. Who is sad now? Who is the one who is pulled apart forever, as broken as me! Me, me, me, the cup that ruined your life as much as I ruined your mother’s! Jim pulls me into a tight embrace but I lash out, kicking and screaming at the top of my lungs, at the little cup and the spilled liquor and the oncoming storm of wind, blowing debris every which way, each speck twinkling with a lilac-lacquered sparkle, together forming the purple-toned cloud of glitter that hurtles towards us. I look into Jim’s eyes, his chocolate brown and mine, no doubt, as silver and lavender as the wind enveloping us, that odd colour only ever appearing in my eyes, when I’m livid or sad or downright awful, and it is somehow reflected and projected around us. His are full of tears and confusion, mine of rage, and I whisper to him goodbye as we are pulled apart.


End file.
